


Call of the Erinyes

by noclue_noidea



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, great big spoilers for the movie, mentions of Beast, mentions of Mystique, mentions of Wolverine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noclue_noidea/pseuds/noclue_noidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after X-Men: Days of Future Past. Charles and Erik have unfinished business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call of the Erinyes

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains some spoilers about the last movie. Read at your own risk. Also, English is not my first language, so if you notice anything wrong, please tell me.

A few days before, and all Charles would have heard would have been perfect silence.

Left so long in its derelict state, the mansion lent iself to gentle sounds, especially very late at night when Hank was finally sleeping and the only signs of life were the hooting of a solitary owl and the velvety fluttering of a few bats. It was there, in his office - ex-office - that Charles lay awake, hardly blinking, desperate not to think. His sleep was full of ghosts. He would banish them during the day, with booze, books, TV, and the occasional bit of porn. At night, the shadows pressed closer, but as long as he stayed up, they could not breach the silence.

That night, though, one materialized, setting his mind aflame.

He didn't need to turn his head, of course. It was not as if the mansion had any alarm system still going. It was not as if the police could have done anything. And he didn't want to wake Hank, his lone, precious caretaker. His last friend.

"Get out."

"Hello to you too, Charles."

Charles still did not turn.

"I said: get out."

"Why don't you make me."

He had come without his helmet.

Charles's mind was all noise, cacophonous tendrils stretching in every direction. He riveted his gaze on a book on his desk. He couldn't even muster the concentration to read the title. The cover had a drawing on it.

"We have unfinished business, you and me."

The drawing was green, and a bit brown. Maybe a landscape of some kind. It was a bit fuzzy...

"Charles, we need to talk."

Was it seriously a book on gardening?

"Charles!"

The hand on his arm burned him through his mind.

"Get off me!"

In one violent, powerful spasm of his whole body, he shrugged off the grip and set himself free.

No. Not his whole body.

It had been too soon. He'd gotten so used to the drug, he forgot the unforgettable. His convulsion was too great: it took him out of his chair, propulsed him half on the ground. A puppet, strings cut. He only just managed to catch himself on the desk. The green and brown book was out of view now.

The hands again, both of them this time. He shoved them off, eyes closed, burning.

"Charles, let me help you..."

The growl of rage and frustration strangled his throat, changed shape, and came out as the most horrible sound he'd ever heard himself make: a dark, pitiful perversion of a laugh.

Heaving his dead weight on his chair again, he turned, and glared directly into the deep, clear eyes he had never wanted to see again.

"Help me, Erik? _Help me?_ "

He expected Erik to recoil from the force of his fury, but the other man stayed put, utterly unmovable. And why shouldn't he? Erik - sorry, _Magneto_ \- has faced far worse than a lonely, crippled, almost useless telepath with tears in his eyes and shadows in his mind. Magneto had corrupted the Sentinels. He had no humanity left to give.

Yet Charles barreled on. Something had given, and it was inside him, breaking still - as it had been for ten years.

"Like you _helped_ me, on the beach? Like you _helped_ me, when you almost killed me _again_? When I lay bleeding on the ground, did you take off that fucking helmet, did you come to me? What is your help, Erik? Because so far, the only help I've ever seen from you, was death!"

"Charles..."

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Each word you say is a lie, each act is a betrayal! And I knew it! I told him, I told Logan, that you were beyond trust, that you shouldn't be - shouldn't be -"

Charles hiccuped, a ridiculous sound that made him see white. He was glad his telepathy hadn't yet returned to its full power, otherwise he would have been broadcasting loud enough to wake Hank and send him onto Erik in a blue fuzz of protectiveness. His chest was heaving with the devastating force of every breath, his lungs trying in vain to expand enough to take in a decade of despair. He felt himself trembling. The room was spinning.

_Withdrawal_ , he thought confusedly. _Of course, it had to happen..._

When Erik tried to touch him again, Charles punched him.

It was pitiful. Ten years of wasting himself away had weakened him considerably, and he'd never been an athlete. Erik barely flinched, hardly moved his head at all. He faced Charles, crouching, his face sterile as marble. Yet his eyes...

There was something in his eyes.

"I tried to protect you," said Erik, slowly. "I tried to protect all of us. Killing Raven -"

"Shut up! It wasn't the solution! You saw it! That's exactly what I was saying - every time, all you bring is -"

"Death. Yes, Charles, I would have killed her. I would have killed her for you."

Charles buried his head in his hands. "Stop."

"Charles, listen to me."

"No! You dare..." Another hiccup, as if his chest was tearing. "You dare come here and tell me that what you did was to protect me? That you did it, for what - for - for -" He couldn't say it. Even when he wanted to negate it with all his might, he couldn't. He just buried it deeper inside the inferno. Panting, he forced himself to look only in the intense gaze focused on him. "I'm letting you go, Erik."

This time, he saw it clearly. Erik did not exactly blink, but something shifted, dark and stormy, in his eyes. Microexpressions crossed his face, too fast for Charles to read them. He went on. He felt different, now he had said it. He felt so calm, so cold, he lost all sensation. _On this moment, Erik exists only for being told the truth._

"You are the reason I lost Raven. I lost my sister - lost her several times over - because of you. Because when we met, I spent so much time, so much energy, on _you_ , trying to help you, trying to steer you out of your darkness, that I didn't see what was happening to her. I saw your violence and your hatred, and I saw you getting closer to her, and yet I thought... I thought you were more important than getting my sister out of danger. I was naive, and stupid."

He hoped his stare was as painful as the expressions on Erik's face let him believe.

"I swore to myself I would never make that mistake again. The whole time with the Sentinels, my focus was on Raven. I knew I could help her; I knew I could trust her, in the end, to do the right thing. And she did. I hurt her so much more than you ever did, but she prevailed. She is worth every ounce of love I ever had for her."

"And I am not."

Charles took a deep breath. "I don't have anything left for you. The friend I thought I had is dead. All I see is a monster."

For a few long seconds, the silence was back. They kept staring into each other's eyes. Charles thought that if he looked away, the certainty of the moment would disappear. Him saying goodbye to Erik, forever. Whatever future Logan had told him he had, it wouldn't be with Erik.

Then, slowly, Erik lowered his gaze to Charles's right hand. He raised his hand and carefully closed his fingers over Charles's wrist. His touch was light enough he hardly felt it, except of course he did, a horrible branding on his skin. Maybe it was for that reason that Charles didn't take his hand away. Why he let his fingers be put against Erik's temple.

"Then destroy me."

His hand twitched. The burning came back. The shadows closed again.

Charles shook his head.

"You can do it. Use your power and make me disappear. One threat left for your precious peace, isn't it? You could have done it at the White House. Burn my brain, pierce right through it. I did it for Shawn. Why didn't you?"

"Because I'm not like _you_!"

"But somebody _needs_ to be like me!" roared Erik, so violently Charles drew back, frightened. "Somebody needs to be ready to stop me! Why don't you get it, Charles? I can't do it alone! I always fail!"

Erik let go of Charles's hand, slid his fingers along his jaw instead. "You and Raven were the only good things in my life. I tried to kill her, and I almost destroyed you. Can't you protect yourself from me?"

"I can! By pushing you away!"

"And that won't work, Charles! That will never work!"

Erik stopped, breathed deeply. His hand was still on Charles's jaw, his thumb stroking his stubbly cheek. The other had joined on the other side. Charles had not moved.

"And you know why, Charles."

"Stop it, Erik." Charles was hardly audible. "Logan has just given me new faith and new certainties. Don't take them away from me."

"I myself have only one certainty left."

Erik leaned in.

The silence came back when their lips touched.

 

* * *

 

Somehow they made it work.

"Work", in that case, meaning looking for everything but the truth in each other's eyes, reaching for everything but reality in each other's arms. They bled inside each other like fumbling vampires, Erik broadcasting the mess of his confused thoughts and feelings, knowing Charles wouldn't listen to them. Their mouths were biting, their hands possessive, even when they made to push away or apart. Erik was tender and attentive, never forgetting the state of Charles's legs. Charles was wrathful and vicious. He felt like stabbing his crushed hopes into Erik, and rejoiced he didn't feel anything under his waist, for it would have been too much like every lie he had ever choked on.

One instant, sometime before their climax, Charles even laughed - the same horrible snicker he'd spat earlier on.

"Something funny?" asked Erik, breathing into his ear, spreading goosebumps like a plague.

"They sent him to us... They sent him to us to save each other..."

"Who?"

"Us... Us in the future that doesn't exist anymore. Inside my mind - my older self's mind - I felt it; the closeness, the care..." Charles arched into Erik, nails clawing into the broad back, teeth bared. Eyes full of tears. "That's what they exchanged for _this_."

Erik's only answer was to shut him up.

 

* * *

 

When Erik left the following morning, early enough to avoid any hint of Hank, they had never said the words they were both thinking.

But they were still feeling it.


End file.
